


You Look Like a Lady

by grayspider1974



Category: Vikings (TV)
Genre: M/M, Sexual Humiliation, terrible puns, transvestitism, urinary tract infections
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-30
Updated: 2018-02-07
Packaged: 2019-03-11 14:15:28
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,562
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13526013
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/grayspider1974/pseuds/grayspider1974
Summary: In which Bjorn and Halfdan escape from North Africa with their lives (but not necessarily their dignity) intact





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Syphilis twas well-documented in Roman times, but seems to have vanished from Europe in the Dark Ages, possibly because people who contracted it usually died of something else (e.g:Vikings or Huns) before they developed symptoms. The mercury treatment prescribed here is typical of later Renaissance medicine, and is reason to thank God for the discovery of penicillin!

Note: I do not own Vikings, and I have a great deal of respect for trans people. This is meant to evoke the classic movie Some Like It Hot and I hope it doesn't offend anybody. 

The sandstorm raged all about them. "This trip was a bad idea, Boss!" said Halfdan.  
Bjorn Ironside grunted, then said. "Keep walking. They've stopped chasing us." Then he suddenly vanished. There was a loud crash, and something hee-hawed. Halfdan peered down into the gaping hole that had suddenly appeared where Bjorn had been standing.  
'I'm all right," said Bjorn. "I just missed landing on somebody's ass." There was another hee-haw. "It's a nice looking ass," said Bjorn. "I wonder whose it is?"  
Halfdan peered down into the shadows. "It might belong to that girl who's trying desperately to hide from you, She probably hid down here with her pack animal to escape the storm, which I think was a smart idea. Hold on." He clambered into the hole.  
The girl watched him with amber eyes that were like those of the cinnamon-furred cat that was draped over her shoulders like a shawl. "Norwiggers, right?" she asked.  
Halfdan and Bjorn exchanged a Meaningful Look. "How did you guess?" they asked in unison.  
"You're two large, muscular tattooed men with bad haircuts who just dropped in out of nowhere and started molesting my ass for no damn good reason. Besides, you're speaking Norse. I ain't stupid!" She beamed. "Do you know Whitey Ragnarsson?"  
Bjorn shrugged. "Who's he?"  
"He's a Norwigger like you, but he's slim and sandy-haired. He's got an older brother who works for the Brute Squad."  
"I founded the Varangian Company, and I don't know anybody named Whitey," said Bjorn. "You must be mistaken."  
"She means Hvitserk, Boss" said Halfdan. "The locals can't pronounce the 'Hv' in 'Hvit' properly, so they use a 'w' sound. It's a wonder how they make sense even to each other!" He turned to the stranger "Okay, lady...you say you know Hvitserk, but who in Frig's name are you?  
The girl bobbed a curtsey. She was not tall but she was curvaceous and bouncy and had a cute brown face. "Oh, me?" she asked. "Oh, I'm just Nobody!"  
Bjorn brushed off the sand that had blown down from above while they had been talking.  
"I don't care who you are," he said. "But this sandstorm isn't dying down any time soon, so if you don't mind, we're going to wait it out with you."

Eventually the sandstorm blew over, and they managed to find Sinric, who had waited out the storm in a different crevice. The mountains that divided the Sahara from the Mediterranean Sea were webbed with canyons and crevices, and here and there you could find hidden wells. The natives were mostly an elusive and shy pastoral people, and as Bjorn and Company were on the run from the law it was deemed fit to avoid the local populace as much as possible, though many chickens went missing from local farms, and three fine examples of the indigo cloaks that gave the natives the popular name of Blue Men disappeared from various clotheslines. Nobody spoke little of her origins, save that she had known Hvitserk when she lived in Alexandria and that she had been washed out to sea by a gigantic wave that had struck the North coast of Africa about a month ago and had been picked up by some Libyans and had been slowly making her way back home. She was an accomplished thief, quicker and quieter than her companions but ferociously strong for her size, and all told a nasty person to tangle with and as such she was as great a help to Bjorn's progress as a dozen of his mother's shield maidens would have been, and he wondered how his brother had found such a capable young woman, and despite the fact that Halfdan the Black hd evidently contracted some sort of social disease from his dalliance with one of the Emir's catamites and was in agony every time he had to stop and urinate (which was quite frequent, as Halfdan had an unusually small bladder for a grown man) they eventually saw the lights of Alexandria. "Keep an eye peeled for the popo," Sinric warned. "The Emir still wants our heads, or worse. Remember, he literally had Commander Euphemeus for dinner."   
"They say revenge is a dish best served cold," said Bjorn. "Best Italian I ever ate..."  
"They served him with harissa and pita bread!" said Halfdan.  
"He still tasted better than lutefisk," said Bjorn.  
"I think I am going to become a vegetarian all the same," said Sinric "and here come the constabulary!" A squad of Janissaries rode by them on horseback.   
"Damn cops!" said Halfdan. "Ain't got no balls, the lot of them!"

In time, they found a long, low building with a sign that read Whitey's Wigs in several languages. "Hvitserk's doing well, it seems," said Bjorn "and there's still a light on in the office, so he must be working late." The door was indeed unlocked, and in the office sat Hvitserk, checking over an account book. He had a rather bedraggled wig on a stand on his desk, and a small brown monkey sat on his shoulder grooming him. His hair had once been long and luxurious (if a rather nondescript sandy colour) but it was now cropped very short. The monkey shrieked, baring its teeth and Hvitserk looked up and sighed as Nobody strode forward, took the wig from its stand and set it on her own head.   
"I came back for my wig, Whitey" she said "and I found these three numbskulls wandering in the desert. The big one with the blond braid down to his arse says he's your half-brother. The old one says his name is Sinric, and the one who looks like he desperately needs to take a piss says his name is Halfman..."  
"HalfDAN!" snapped Halfdan. "My name is Halfdan the Black, you abbreviated shrew..." He was clutching his groin.   
"There's a commode just down the hall to your left," said Hvitserk.  
'Thank'ee!" said Halfdan, and he scooted into the facility. From inside came the sounds of tinkling and muffled sobs of pain.  
"Do you know these clowns?" asked Nobody.  
"Sadly, yes!" said Hvitserk. "And I suppose that they need my help!"  
After a while, Halfdan emerged. "What in Frig's name are you lookin' at?" he asked no one in particular.  
"Nothing," said Bjorn. "What happens in North Africa stays in North Africa...but really, you should consult with a physician if you're in that much pain. You wouldn't want it to shrivel up and fall off, would you?"  
"Nope," said Halfdan. "I suppose I should make an appointment."

Dr. Kahn was discreet and did house calls, and was a distant relative of the Cohen family that had sheltered Bjorn in Constantinople. He came, examined Halfdan and said "You seem to have nothing more than a severe urinary tract infection, but I would not rule out syphilis or shistosomiasis. Those are difficult to detect until the later stages of the disease, and the most easily detectable symptom of either disease is that you go crazy."  
Bjorn snorted. "He's already insane."  
Dr Kahn tapped the end of his nose. "Syphilis also produces hideous lesions. Then your nose rots off and you die. I'm going to prescribe your friend a course of mercury sulphide and silver nitrate, and remind him not to put his shlong where it does not belong." He handed Bjorn a large syringe. "Hold him down and inject the solution into his urethra. It is not pleasant, but it is necessary!" He held up his hand in the age-old sign that meant "give me money" Hvitserk handed him a fistful of shekels, then another. "If you want a cheaper way to treat venereal disease, try keeping it in your pants!" said Dr. Kahn, and then he departed.


	2. W.A.G.N.E.R.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Hvitserk proposes an unorthodox means of escape.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I couldn't help making a few digs at racial profiling, because I know a lot of people (not just Arabs...one of them is Metis) who have been subject to racial slurs and unfair treatment because people think they look like terrorists, and even my husband's family (who came from Karelia) were referred to as "those damn Displaced Persons" and accused of being Communist spies back in the 1960's. Really, people...our society needs to evolve past that Fortress America crap!  
> I personally prefer the traditional Polish spelling of Catherine Winnuck's name  
> The scene in Lone Survivor where Alexander Ludwig dances is the only real highlight of the movie, and it's on Youtube.

The next challenge was to get out of Alexandria undetected, because the Emir had issued warrants for three males of European ancestry, described as:  
1)Extremely large male, early thirties, muscular build, long blond braided hair and beard, blue eyes, numerous tattoos  
2)Medium height male, mid thirties, muscular build, short reddish-blond hair,brown eyes, numerous tattoos, and  
3)Short male, late fifties, curly grey hair, dark eyes, small tattoo of the sign of Taurus on right buttock  
Hvitserk was already suspected of terrorist involvement due to an incident that involved the destruction of a treasured national monument, namely the great Pharos that had stood at the mouth of the Alexandria harbour. "It's racial profiling," he said. "As soon as they see a White face, they think you're some sort of international terrorist." Um Jamilia set a tray in front of them which Sinric poked at suspiciously.  
"Norwigger, please!" his hostess said. "It's fried chicken! Would I sell you a pig in a poke?"  
Bjorn shrugged, and took a bite. "It definitely tastes like chicken," he said "and it's good!"  
"I think I'll just have some salad" said Sinric.  
"Anyway, I think I know someone who can get you out of Alexandria," said Hvitserk. "She's a frequent customer of mine."  
"Who?" asked Bjorn.  
"Her name is Katerina Vinnecusa," said Hvitserk. "but her friends call her Winnie."

"I go to these shows often," said Hvitserk "and I've met some of the girls. They're a class act." He had brought them to a place called Rick's Cantina, which was closed for the afternoon. The chairs were up on the tables, and the floors had been swept and sprinkled with fresh sawdust, and some women were on stage practicing a vigorous dance that involved much acrobatic leaping and spinning on poles, while a girl dressed as a young Greek boy played the flute.  
"Dancing girls?" asked Halfdan. "How are they supposed to get us out of here?"  
"They're Pole dancers," said Hvitserk. "People here find European women exotic and sexy, just as we find North African women appealing. They're called the Warsaw All Girl Nude Erotic Revue. Ah, Madame Vinnecusca! How lovely to see you!" A blonde woman dressed in fake chain mail and a peculiar helmet with horns on it approached them. She was of mature years but still very attractive, and she regarded Bjorn and Company with suspicion.  
"Sweet Frig, she looks like your Mum!" Halfdan whispered in Bjorn's ear "What a raging case of Bitch Face!"  
"Shut up!" whispered Sinric "She's our ticket out of here!"  
Then Winnie looked Bjorn straight in the eye and laughed. "Vell, vat are you vaiting for?" she asked "Line up in order of height. You too, Hvitserk." They all lined up, Bjorn on the left and Sinric on the right. Winnie motioned to the flute girl, who struck up a spritely tune. "I want to see you men humiliate yourself, as we vimmin must do every day. Take off your clothes and dance!" The men obliged with an improvised strip tease. Bjorn did not seem to care if a strange woman saw him naked, and danced surprisingly well, though Winnie suggested that he avoid using the pole to avoid bending it. Halfdan seemed to be genuinely enjoying himself, but Hvitserk was reluctant and Sinric simply took off his clothes and said "I'm old, fat and hairy. In my opinion I'm not much to look at, but knock yourself out!"  
Winnie giggled. "Now line up as you were, and each of you kiss the man on his right." Halfdan kissed Bjorn timidly on the cheek, then suddenly grabbed him and kissed him full on the mouth. Hvitserk and Sinric each followed suit rather reluctantly.  
"Now grab his cock and beat him off!" Dame Katerina continued.  
"He's straight!" said Halfdan. "He bit the face off the last man who touched his cock!"  
"I don't care!" said Winnie. "Do you vant out of Alexandria or not?"  
"Halfdan's got crotch rot!" said Hvitserk.  
"I don't care about that either!" said Winnie.  
"She gets off on humiliating people," said Sinric. "So the more you complain, the better she likes it. Just close your eyes and think 'what happens in Alexandria stays in Alexandria!" Hvitserk obliged, laying his head on Halfdan's shoulder and closing his eyes as Sinric choked his chicken and he himself laid hands on Halfdan, who in turn whispered "I've wanted to do this since I met you, though not under these circumstances..." as he cupped Bjorn's twin orbs and sceptre imperial in his hand. Bjorn growled, but let Halfdan go to work. There were a few awkward moments which only Halfdan seemed to be enjoying before Hvitserk burst into tears and announced that he was done, then Halfdan grunted.  
"Me too..." he said "but Bjorn is still hard as a rail."  
"It takes me a long time," said Bjorn. "and I like it when women slap me around and verbally abuse me. Perhaps Madame Vinnecusca can help a bit?"  
Winnie obligingly punched Bjorn in the face and informed him he was a worthless piece of shit.  
"Do it again, Ma'am!" was his response.  
"Motherfucking arsehole!" she hissed, and punched him again.  
"That I am, Ma'am , that I am..."  
"Damn, you're hung like a horse!" said Halfdan "and my wrist is cramping up!"  
Winnie slapped Bjorn, and called him the misbegotten son of a Norwigger pig farmer and a big haired slut.  
"Have you actually met my Mother and Father?" Bjorn asked.  
Winnie nodded. "Ragnar and Lagertha? Yeah...they agreed to pay me fifty kopecks for a threesome, and then backed out of the deal."  
Bjorn's back arched as ejaculate spurted through Halfdan's fingers. "Well, I held up my end of this bargain," he said "Please don't hold me responsible for the actions of my parents! What must I do now?  
"Clean up," said Winnie. "I'll help you pick out a dress and a vig and put on makeup. The Janissaries are looking for a group of Norse men. I plan to disguise you as Polish vimmen. You probably can't dance with the other girls, although I for one enjoyed your audition. Can any of you sing, tell jokes, or do impressions?"  
"One of my wives taught me how to escape from shackles," said Bjorn "and if you give Halfdan a ventriloquist's dummy, he may surprise you."  
"I do some coin and rope tricks." said Sinric. "More to pass the time than anything else.  
Madame Katerina Vinnecusca beamed, and clapped her hands. "Vell, gentlemen...or rather ladies...the vardrobe department is on your right!"

The Warsaw All Girl Nude Erotic Revue boarded the next ship to Byzantium with several new interim acts, and as a tall girl in a stunning platinum wig helped her smaller companion who wore a fine new ginger wig from Whitey's Wig Emporium load her valise on board, her companion hissed "Remember to walk like a lady, Bjorn...you're walking like your mother!" Halfdan's face had been heavily made up to hide his tattoos, and he felt he looked fabulous, but Bjorn felt naked without his beard.  
"Don't look now, girls!" said Sinric "because here comes the constabulary!"  
The Janissary on harbour patrol duty approached and tipped his helmet. "Good afternoon, Ladies....have you anything to declare?"  
Halfdan twinkled, and dropped into a curtsey. "Nothing at all, Sir!" he said "except our own damn brilliance!"


End file.
